


crossfire

by imaginedecember



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 09:55:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1300720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginedecember/pseuds/imaginedecember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray was just lonely. If he kept repeating that to himself, then everything would be alright. Until he met the stranger he was supposed to kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	crossfire

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: 
> 
> Mature simply for sexual references and imagery.
> 
> The reason: 
> 
> This fic is based on this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=IpbDHxCV29A. The basic premise of the video is that twenty strangers were paired up into groups of two and they had to kiss a stranger. I decided to put Ray and Michael into this same situation because I have been feeling major raychael feelings as of late.

It was a crazy thing to do but goddamn people always go insane when they're lonely. Sad excuse but that was all Ray could come up with. So, allowing an artist to do a study on what happens when you pair up twenty strangers and tape them making out was a definite way to not feel lonely. At least for a little bit. 

All Ray needed was a few minutes with someone else. Just a little warmth. Some laughter, awkward probably, but sometimes that's the best kind. Ray was just lonely, honestly. He loved to be home but sometimes the click of the buttons on his controller became a mundane sound and the blare of the sirens outside of his window no longer seemed normal. Everything was abnormal. And what a great way to continue that trend by throwing himself into something that he never even knew existed. 

It was like going to a club. He just had to repeat that to himself. Although, he hated clubs and loathed alcohol even more. Didn't matter in that moment. What mattered was that he was standing in the abandoned apartment with the artist and the artist was guiding him in front of her camera. At least it was a girl. 

She seemed understanding of his shyness and she never noted how much his hands shook and how his eyes could never quite reach hers. He was thankful for this. For her, it was probably a normal reaction. It was one you would see in a club if the veil of alcohol was lifted. 

"Okay, so, I'm gonna bring in the person that you're gonna meet for the first time. If you're too uncomfortable, you can back out at any time."

Ray's shoulders relaxed slightly at those words. This was a study after all. It was all about informed consent, something Ray could get behind. He could back out at any time if his heart did not explode outside of his chest first.

His smile was shaky at best as he raised his eyes to finally meet the artist's. She smiled back, kinder and stronger then his. She had confidence, something that Ray was not sure he ever had. When she turned on her heel to open the door to the apartment, Ray suddenly remembered one very important detail; the person behind that door could be male. 

It was not something that Ray was against. He was always curious because, honestly, that was what humans were. But if it was a male, it would be his first kiss with a male and, god, he would make a fool out of himself. He could back out now. He could feel his ribs ache at trying to hold in his heart. There was a shattering then a squeak, a laughter and-.

"Okay, guys. Stand in front of each other and I'll start the camera. When I give you the signal, introduce yourself. Tell each other where you're from and all that," the artist spoke but her voice was far away. 

All Ray could see was him. 

His eyes were glued to the floor so he started with the stranger's attire. His shoes were scuffed, caked with dirt. The jeans that hung low on his hips did not fare much better. There were patches of torn fabric and all Ray wanted to do was latch his fingernail on to one of the frayed pieces and tug the stranger to him. 

His fingers were hooked inside the pocket of his jeans, making them ride even lower on hipbones that jutted out deliciously. Ray never thought himself as one to be possessive or even interested in marking someone but he wanted to latch his teeth on to the bone and suck. He wondered what the stranger would do, if he would like it, if he would wither beneath him. Or if he would allow him the moment of dominance but then flip him over at the last possible second to show him who was really in charge. If Ray was to be honest, he wanted both situations. This stranger had a body that was meant to be worshipped. 

His pale skin stood out to him, some would think it'd be too white, not enough tan. But Ray did not care because it was gorgeous to him. It contrasted nicely with his own skin and he could only imagine how they'd look together. The artist mentioned that the video would be in black and white but Ray wanted to see it in color. He wanted to see every detail. 

As Ray's eyes trailed from the dark gray t-shirt and the way it fit snugly along the muscles in his arms, he was not prepared for the stranger's eyes and lips. God, those lips. How the top lip curved but the bottom lip was fuller. He wondered how they would fit against his own. And those eyes. They drank him in, watching him almost like he was studying him. But Ray was probably dreaming up that little detail. 

Finally, the stranger began to move until they were standing in front of each other. It was probably a foot of space but to Ray, the stranger felt inches away. The warmth that he had so desperately craved the last few days danced between them like a flame. And it was all the stranger's fault. His deep brown eyes bore into his own for a few seconds before turning to the artist to wait for her call. In that single look, Ray felt like he was trying to wring in a super nova. 

There'd be no way he'd see this stranger again. 

He turned his head as well to watch the artist set up the camera. It was a terrible distraction to the breathing human being in front of him but it was enough to give his head some space. When the artist nodded at them to continue, Ray realized what he was supposed to do first before throwing himself on to this stranger. 

"Oh, I'm Ray. New York's been my home for awhile," he introduced. He didn't stick out his hand to shake for he was afraid what he'd do and because his fingers were trembling. The stranger didn't seem to be offended by it, though. 

"Michael. Decided to come up from New Jersey for a bit," the stranger answered. New Jersey. Ray's eyes almost widened just a tad at the accent that flowed out of the older male's mouth. It was silk and it wrapped around him like a vice. The way the accent could carve out his name left Ray in a frazzled state of imagination. 

"This is an odd tourist attraction to join," Ray commented. Scoffing, Michael shook his head, making his brown curls dance slightly. Ray wanted to tuck some of them back into place but Michael was talking again, effectively stopping every thought inside of him. 

"Dared to do it. Glad it brought me here, though," Michael spoke. A hint of a smirk played on his lips and Ray had no comment. All he could do was hope that the blush on his cheeks was small and insignificant. When was the last time he even flirted with someone? By the way Michael's smirk grew and his eyes glinted with mischief, Ray was pretty sure his blush could be seen from people halfway across the world. 

"So, Mr. Bigshot, are you gonna kiss me or what?" When he was nervous or shy, Ray always tried to come out on top by being snarky. But by the way Michael's smirk dropped to a soft smile, Ray knew he was doomed. Of course he had to be paired with the one person that liked that in a person. Well, he assumed it made the whole exchange easier. It would have been awkward if they hated each other. 

But if Ray was being honest, it was worse when he liked Michael as soon as he set foot in the apartment. 

When Michael moved forward, his arms moved with him and Ray's eyes widened when he realized Michael's intentions. The older male was going to hold his face, his jaw, his whatever. Ray did not care at the moment so long as those hands were on him somewhere. 

Those hands. 

It was a detail that Ray had skimmed over for the exact reason that if he did dwell on them, he would have had a serious problem downstairs. And that was not the whole purpose of this project was. He was lonely damn it, not desperate. 

While he was stuck in his thoughts, he almost forgot that Michael had moved. When he refocused on to the situation at hand, he gasped at the feel of those hands cradling his cheek as if he was a fragile doll. It wasn't a bad thing to feel. It made him feel wanted, like those lonely nights were just nightmares and not reality. 

His hands were huge and if he had to put any money on it, he'd say it would be an insecurity for the older male just for that reason. But they were warm and they fit his face so perfectly. Any smaller and it would have sucked. Plus, the veins that stood out naturally flexed and Ray watched his right hand curl into a fist at the older man's side. 

Transfixed, he leaned forward and met Michael in the middle. The older male leaned to the right while he naturally leaned to the left. How could two strangers just do that? Natural, simply, easy. It was like drowning and Ray didn't care that Michael had literally stole his breath away. 

Their lips met softly, a tender pressure that Ray would not have expected from the older male. But then he was pressing forward, harsher and harsher until a tongue swiped across his bottom lip. Ray could do nothing but gasp helplessly. His fingers latched on to the worn stitches of Michael's shirt, tangling the fabric and almost tearing at it in a futile attempt to ground himself. There was a video camera taping them. This was probably, more than likely, going to be seen by hundreds of people. 

But did Ray give a single damn?

No, because it was Michael. 

And all he ever cared about in that moment was that the older man was holding him and kissing him as if he was the sole reason he was put on this damn planet. Michael's left hand finally moved to the small of his back, his palm flattening out to rest on the cloth covered skin. 

He pushed Ray into him, to the point where their belt buckles clinked together. And that was when their moment was broken. Because Ray was thrusting into Michael's growing erection and their tongues were battling and it needed to end before the two of them found themselves on the floor or against a wall. Either option sounded amazing right now to Ray. But Michael broke the kiss before he could even begin to think of the possibility. 

Hot breath fanned across his face. Ray's own harsh pants mixed with Michael's, creating a heated mixture between them. It wasn't sickly but intoxicating. His scent, the way his pupils were blown wide and the way they watched him hungrily. Ray could do this for all of eternity.

Damn, the things a stranger could do to him. 

Licking his lips, Ray caught any excess spit and smiled. Michael smiled in return and then he laughed, loud and echoing throughout the abandoned building. Ray could not help but join in. 

He thought his laugh always sounded wrong and ugly due to its odd choppiness and how his laugh sounded more like the word for laughter then an actual sound. But with Michael's loud, sometimes squeaky, laughter, it blended in perfectly. 

The artist giggled, finally breaking the two from their embrace. Michael let his hands slip from Ray's back and cheek. His hands had never felt so empty and Ray had never felt so cold. The artist was then clapping, smiling at them eagerly. 

"That was the best one yet! You two are exactly why I did this project." 

Ray slipped back into his shy demeanor, smiling awkwardly and spewing shitty apologies out of the corner of his mouth. He did not know why he was saying sorry or to whom he was speaking to. But the artist was busy finishing up the recording and getting the next couple in so he assumed it was to Michael. 

But Michael was walking out of the apartment. Ray ran to follow him but he hesitated in the doorway. 

"I should be sorry, Ray," Michael finally spoke. He had paused before the elevator doors, turning his head over his shoulder to stare at Ray. His eyes were narrowed in a calculating look and Ray felt like the worst human being. 

He did not know that when you were lonely, you became desperate for contact and when you become desperate, you make the most terrible mistakes. But he didn't want Michael to be a mistake. He didn't want Michael to be a regret. There was something between them or was he really just dreaming after all? Were they honestly just strangers who happened to be a part of the same study?

Bowing his head, he leaned against the wall and tried to ignore the sound of the elevator doors opening. He was too busy focusing on that shitty damn sound that he didn't hear footsteps running towards him. But those hands, god, he could never forget how they felt against his skin. 

Lips pressed to his, one head leaning right, the other leaning left. It was natural, easy, simple. God, how long had he been wishing for this? 

"Here's my number. Call me. I leave on Friday so we have a few days," Michael whispered. His voice was so close and he didn't know how Michael could speak after something like that. Ray could only nod his head, allowing another kiss to be placed upon his lips, more tender this time then anything Ray had ever felt. And then the warmth was gone. 

His super nova was gone. 

He couldn't catch something like that. It would burn him alive. But maybe that was what he had been searching for all along; for someone to brighten the world around him. Michael didn't just brighten up the world, he lit it on fire. 

And Ray was just happy to be caught in the crossfire.


End file.
